


Get a Clue

by track_04



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Board Games, Extra Treat, Fluff, Gen, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:04:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/pseuds/track_04
Summary: Just another Saturday night in the Archives: board games, take away, near murder, and a very put-upon boss.





	Get a Clue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flammenkobold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/gifts).



> A bit of bonus fluff with the Archive gang for you! Happy Chocolate Box!

The biggest problem with having temporarily taken up residence in an old, spooky archive was that it was, namely, old and spooky.

During the day, with his co-workers around to talk and run into things and just generally remind him that he wasn't the only living person in the world, Martin didn't mind it so much. It really wasn't that bad so long as you weren't alone. It could be a bit atmospheric, even.

The evenings and weekends with their silence and emptiness were a different story, though. Being alone in the archives was different than being alone in his flat. At least there, there'd always been noises and cooking smells and other signs of life from his neighbors. He'd never actually felt alone there. Being in the archives when everyone else was gone made him feel trapped and isolated, with only the constant fear that he could feel something crawling on the back of his neck to keep him company. Sometimes at night, when he was lying in bed and trying to shut out the quiet and sleep, he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if no one bothered coming back in the morning. If he'd just be stuck there, alone forever.

Needless to say, spending so much time alone might have been starting to get to him.

As evidenced by the fact that he was currently hiding behind one of the Archive's shelving units without any trousers on, brandishing a tape recorder in one hand and a corkscrew in the other.

Normally in the evenings, he preferred to listen to music or write poetry or read one of the books that someone (he suspected Jon, but couldn't be certain) kept leaving on his desk. He wasn't much for wandering around the archives holding makeshift weapons--save for a few times right after he'd moved in that he really didn't like to remember--but he'd heard something. And not an imagined something, like sometimes happened when it was late and he'd spent too long lying awake in bed, thinking. A real someone-is-here something that probably meant he was five seconds away from being horribly murdered, his remains left spread out across the archives for his co-workers to find. 

If there were any remains, that was. He wasn't sure which option he preferred.

The sound came again, a soft creaking like a foot against a floorboard, and Martin leapt out from his hiding place, the corkscrew held out in front of him--

\--and very nearly stabbed a very surprised-looking Tim in the arm.

"Martin, what the hell are you doing?" Tim stumbled back a few steps, his hands held out in front of him.

Martin would have clutched at his chest if his hands weren't full. Instead, he lowered the corkscrew and closed his eyes, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Gave _you_ a heart attack? You nearly stabbed me with a--is that a corkscrew? What, were you opening up a bottle of merlot and decided to take a break to murder one of your co-workers?"

"No, I keep it around for the wor--nevermind. It's not important. What are you doing here?"

"Nearly getting killed, apparently," Tim said, looking put-out enough that Martin felt a bit guilty, even if Tim probably deserved it at least a little for sneaking in here without giving him any sort of warning beforehand. "It's a good job you've got terrible aim."

"Sorry. You just startled me. Why didn't you text me to say you were coming?"

"Well, I would have, if I'd known you'd try to stab me if I didn't."

"Oh good, you found him." Sasha frowned a little as she took in the scene. "Did I miss something?"

"Martin tried to murder me for interrupting his wine drinking."

"I wasn't drinking wine. I don't even like wine--"

"Right." Sasha sighed and shifted her grip on the oversized handbag that she had slung over one shoulder. "Are you alright, Martin? You look a bit pale."

"Is _he_ okay? He's not the one who almost got stabbed."

"Shut up, Tim." Sasha looked at Martin expectantly.

"I'm fine. I just thought it might be someone trying to break in. I might have tried to stab him, though. Sorry." Martin lowered his gaze, too embarrassed to look either of them in the eye.

"I wouldn't be too worried about it if you missed," Sasha said, sounding completely unphased. "And if anyone is going to stab Tim, it might as well be someone who's not wearing any trousers."

Martin flushed and looked down, now acutely aware that he was standing half-naked in front of his co-workers. "Oh no--I forgot to. Sorry, I'll be right back."

"Don't feel like you have to get dressed on my account," Tim called after him, sounding like he'd more than fully recovered from his brush with death.

Martin heard something that sounded suspiciously like someone being smacked in the arm followed by, "Behave, Tim."

He did his best to ignore them both and went to retrieve his trousers.

\--

By the time Martin got back, Tim and Sasha were in the small side room that they usually reserved for recording statements, seated at the table and speaking in hushed tones. Tim stopped mid-sentence when Martin walked in and gave him a casual once-over.

"Should I check your pockets for random kitchen implements?"

"No, I left the corkscrew with my things." Martin flushed and lingered in the doorway uncertainly. "So what exactly are you doing here? Is there a work thing we're meant to be doing that no one told me about?"

"It's Saturday. We're not about to do extra work on a weekend," Tim said, nudging an empty chair out from beneath the table with his foot and motioning to it with a grin. 

"Then why--am I in trouble? Oh god, am I fired? Did Jon not want to tell me himself so he sent you instead?"

"You're not fired," Sasha said, sounding like she couldn't decide whether to be amused or feel sorry for him. "We just thought you might like some company."

"Thought you might be going a bit batty, being holed up here all the time." Tim pursed his lips. "Given your greeting, I think we may have been right."

"Oh, that's...thank you?" Martin hesitated for a moment before taking a seat, sitting on the very edge of the chair, like he might have been contemplating fleeing. "So, are we just going to sit here, or…"

Sasha started to answer, but she was interrupted by a loud bang from the main room and the sound of a familiar voice calling out to them.

"Hello? Tim, Martin, where are you? If anyone else is here besides my assistants, I'll have you know I'm not afraid to phone the police."

"In here, Jon," Tim called, grinning at Martin. "Perfect timing. We can get started now."

"Get started with what?" Martin looked to Sasha, trusting her to give him a straightforward answer. Or more straightforward than Tim, anyway.

She just smiled at him and directed her gaze towards the door. "Hello, Jon."

"Sasha?" Jon was standing just inside the door, shirt collar slightly askew and looking more panicked than Martin would have imagined was possible. Jon didn't really do panicked. Even when Martin had told him about his ordeal with Prentiss, he'd just been very _Jon_ about it. "Are you all alright? Tim texted me, said there was an emergency--"

Tim seemed to take that as his cue and stood, pulling out the last chair and moving around the table to where Jon was standing. He took him by the shoulders and lead him to the empty chair, urging him down onto it. "Yes, Jon, there's an emergency and we need your help dealing with it."

"Well, what is it? Is Prentiss here? Did she try to break in after hours and attack Martin?"

Tim took a seat in his chair again and rested his elbows against the table. "Did you hear that, Martin? He's worried about you. That's kind of sweet."

Jon sat stiff-backed in his chair and glared at Tim. He didn't glare at Tim as often as he glared at other people--other people being Martin, mostly--so it should have been fairly effective. It wasn't, if Tim's expression was anything to go by. "Tim, would you please just tell me what's going on?"

Tim clasped his hands in front of him and said in the voice that he usually reserved for phone calls that involved lying to government officials, "There's been a murder."

"Wait--what?"

"Or at least there's about to be. Sasha?"

Sasha calmly pulled a box from her oversized handbag, now on the floor beside her feet, and set it on the table. "I hope you're prepared to put your investigative skills to good use, gentlemen."

Jon turned a narrowed-eyed look on Sasha. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"No, Jon. I would never joke about murder," Sasha said matter-of-factly and lifted the lid from the box, pulling out the game board and unfolding it onto the middle of the table.

Martin leaned over to get a better look. "Cluedo, really? I used to love this game. Haven't played it in years, though."

"Well, then, you're in luck." Sasha smiled at him as she took the game pieces from the box and laid them along the edge of the board in a neat line. 

"I can't believe you texted me in the middle of--" Jon said, eyeing the board with suspicion. "Do you really need me to stay for this? I have things to do. And I'm not really a fan of this game."

"You can't expect us to solve this one without you, Jon." Tim reached out for the red game piece and set it on the table in front of him, looking and sounding disturbingly cheerful. "We need your expert guidance."

Jon's scowl deepened. "Fine. Professor Plum in the library with the lead pipe. May I go now?"

Martin frowned. "You can't know that. We haven't even picked the cards yet."

"I know because I always play the professor--" Jon ignored Tim's laugh and soldiered on, "--and I always end up being the killer. Every time. And it's always the library and the lead pipe because those are both the most obvious place and the stupidest method to use to kill someone, and apparently random chance thinks it's funny to make the murder as predictable as possible every time I play this game."

"What's wrong with using a lead pipe?"

"Because, Martin, it's an idiotic way to kill someone. Messy, requires a significant amount of force, hard to keep a proper grip on it once things start getting bloody. At least the candlestick and spanner are weighted at one end, so they'd be easier to work with if you really felt the need to bludgeon someone to death."

"That's not creepy at all." Tim leaned over and reached for the purple game piece, placing it in front of Jon with a look that was half-amusement, half-challenge. "If you are right, then it'll be a short game. What have you got to lose, professor?"

Jon sighed and sat back in his chair. "Fine. One game, then I'm leaving."

Sasha nudged Martin with her foot beneath the table and nodded her head at the remaining pieces. "Your turn, Martin."

"Oh, I thought I'd let you pick first. I'm fine just choosing from whatever's left." 

"You're going to pick Mrs. White, aren't you?"

"I did used to end up playing her a lot, now that you mention it." Martin gave Jon a questioning look. "Is there something wrong with me playing Mrs. White?" 

"Well, there's not really anything wrong with it. It's just a bit--"

Tim arched an eyebrow at him, "Predictable. Then again, so is Professor Sims over there."

"I mean, I tried picking Miss Scarlett a few times, but people always used to fight over her, so it just seemed like too much trouble." Martin flushed and looked down at the white game piece, stained slightly yellow with age. "No one ever really argued with me about wanting to be Mrs. White."

Sasha sighed and reached across the board, swiping the red playing piece from in front of Tim and placing it in front of him. "Here."

"But that's Tim's--"

"It's alright. I like Mrs. Peacock better, anyway. She has style _and_ money." Tim placed the blue piece in front of himself and winked at Jon, who made a point of ignoring him. "And I know how to be versatile."

Martin looked down at the red playing piece and then back up at Sasha. "I really don't think I'm--are you sure you don't want it, Tim?"

"Martin." Sasha leaned in, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Be Miss Scarlett this time. See how you like it."

"I guess I can give it a try." Martin set the game piece down in front of him and watched as Sasha took the white piece for her own. "It's just a playing piece, right?"

Tim looked ready to comment, but he was interrupted by his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. "Brilliant, food's here. Jon, you can come help me collect it. You two can handle finishing setting things up?"

Sasha gave him a wry look. "I think we have it under control."

"Right, then." Tim stood. "Come on, Jon."

Jon looked ready to protest, but he stood anyway and leveled an assessing look at Tim. "You seem to enjoy ordering me around."

"Jon, I would never. You're my boss and I have the utmost respect for you." Tim slung an arm over his shoulders and started steering him toward the door. "I respect you so much that I'm going to let you buy us all dinner. To show just how much you appreciate us."

"Now, hang on--"

Tim opened the door and urged Jon through before he could finish his objections. He turned and gave Sasha and Martin a thumbs up as he let the door swing shut behind them.

Sasha pulled the cards out of the box and started arranging them in neat piles on the table, smiling slightly to herself. She waited for the faint click of the outer archive door before she said, "This must be more excitement than you're used to having here in the evenings."

"It is, but it's kind of nice. Gets a bit too quiet around here sometimes."

Sasha pulled the weapon tokens out of the box and handed them to Martin. "You know, if you ever want company, all you have to do is ask."

"I know, I just--" Martin started placing the weapons in the different rooms around the board, glad for the excuse not to meet her eyes. "--I feel bad. It wasn't exactly like I had an exciting social life before all this happened, and I'm sure you've all got better things to do."

"I don't know about that." Sasha reached out to take the lead pipe from him, placing it in the library with a smirk. "We're here now, aren't we?"

"Yes. I suppose you are." Martin smiled sheepishly. "How exactly did you get Tim to come along? He always seems to have plans for the weekend."

"It's Tim. He'll agree to almost anything if you use the right tone of voice." Sasha sat back in her chair. "So, are you going to peek at the cards first, or am I?"

"What?" Martin gave the door a nervous glance and dropped his voice to a whisper. "That's cheating."

"Oh, come on. Don't pretend you don't want to. It'll give us more of a chance to mess with Jon and Tim."

"They'll know. Jon will take one look at my face and he'll _know_ \--"

"You are vastly overestimating his powers of observation," Sasha said, sliding the top card from the leftmost stack into her hand. 

"Well, won't they just ask us to shuffle them anyway? So, it's not like it will even work."

"Tim would never think to ask, and Jon will be too busy double-checking to make sure the restaurant included the appropriate number of napkins with our order to care." Sasha slid the top cards off each of the two remaining piles of cards, then lifted her hand to take a peek. "Oh, you've got to be kidding."

Martin bit his lip and shifted in his chair. "What? Is it bad? Am I the murderer?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Martin glanced at the door and then nodded guiltily. "...yes."

"Okay." Sasha turned the cards slowly in her hand until Martin had a good view of them. "I guess Jon was right about it always being the lead pipe."

"And the library." Martin frowned. "He did get the murderer wrong, though."

"I guess it's not always him after all." Sasha laid the cards back down on their respective piles and grinned. "Looks like he's in for a surprise this time."

Martin smiled back. "That'll be a nice change of pace."

"I think you might be overestimating him again," Sasha said, sounding almost fond. 

"Maybe." Martin picked up his playing piece and twirled it idly between his fingers. "Thanks again, Sasha. For all this."

"Well, it's not completely selfless. I couldn't really pass up the chance to watch Jon play board games, now could I?"

Martin wrinkled his nose. "...he's going to be an awful loser, isn't he? Assuming he loses, that is. But Tim seems like he'd be pretty good at this sort of thing and we did look at the cards."

"He's going to be the absolute worst loser," Sasha said with a laugh. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Me either." Martin smiled to himself, thinking that one of the biggest advantages to having taken up temporary residence in an old, spooky archive was the people who kept you company along the way.


End file.
